


Do You Love Me, Harry?

by NewAndLost (yahootoldyou)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, No Major Character Death, dumb boys in love, same age Tom and harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yahootoldyou/pseuds/NewAndLost
Summary: That is what Harry Potter makes him feel. He makes Tom feel like murder and world domination and incessant hunger. Tom wants to carve open Harry's chest and take a bite out of his living, beating, human heart. He wants to lay claim to cities and oceans until his empire is too large to crumble out from underneath him. Harry Potter makes him feel both powerful and weak and Tom finds himself wondering…Is this what love feels like?Is Harry Potter the one causing flowers to grow in Tom’s lungs where they shouldn’t be? Tom doesn’t know. He is a product of a love potion and the fact that he can love was shocking to hear in the first place, but to love Harry Potter?Gryffindor’s golden boy?The thought makes him feelill.





	Do You Love Me, Harry?

The first time Tom hacks up a lily, he spends hours in the library in Hogwarts researching what it means to throw up flowers. Growing ever more frustrated with the lack of results, he gives up for the night, hoping to whatever deity that exists that it was a hex of some sort and not something more serious. It’s two months before he hacks up another one. 

The second time he hacks one up he’s alone and no one is around to be able to hex him. Tom is on break for Christmas and is staying with the Malfoy’s, but they are out preparing for the annual Yule Ball they throw every year. His eyes cast around his chambers and there isn’t another soul in this manor besides Nagini who… Who is snoring on her rock in the corner mumbling about rats. So, that pretty much rules out hexes and just complicates things much further. Tom sighs, sitting down on his bed and placing his head in his hands. 

Tom thinks he has time, you see, but the next week he coughs up a single petal and he knows that whatever is happening is going to happen more frequently. _So much for the hope of every two months,_ he thinks sarcastically to himself. Anger rips through his veins ripe and hot, his body almost burning with the intensity of it. The lack of knowledge, his ignorance of what is happening to him driving him up a wall. He wants to rip the manor apart for information, to understand just what is happening to him. The Yule Ball is tonight, however, and he can’t offend the influential family that has taken him in. That just wouldn’t do with what he has planned for the future. 

That night finds him dressed to the nines in expensive, silk dressrobes. His hair is perfectly styled and he know he looks delicious. The only problem is the one target of his desire isn’t attending the ball this year. Malfoy said that he refused the invitation Tom had _specifically gone out of his way to get for him_ a week prior to this evening. How disappointing it is too, Tom was looking forward to finally showing that Gryffindor all that he was capable of. 

So now he’s in a circle full of purebloods, mainly Slytherins, and he’s regretting his choice to take part in something so juvenile. The bottle lies in the center of the circle, Pansy Parkinson’s hand drifting a little bit too far up his thigh, but he’s too inebriated to care. Blaise is on his left and he finds himself wanting to take time to drag the boy out of the room and make him suck his-

A cough interrupts both the game and his sexual thoughts. It takes him a moment to realize it’s him coughing however, when he sees Draco’s annoyingly blonde head shoot in his direction through a screen of bleary tears, he prays once again to a deity he doesn’t believe in that no flowers come out of his lungs. The lilies that pour from his mouth choke him and it’s the first time he’s had trouble breathing, but tonight they’re here with a vengeance. 

_What the flying fucking fuck?_ He tries to say as he continuously throws up flowers. Pansy Parkinson squeals, crawling backwards out of the cross fire and as Tom blinks away tears all he can see are streaks of blood on her calf. 

“Tom? Tom, are you alright?” Draco’s voice breaks through the roar in his ears he didn’t realize was present and he finds himself staring into wide crystal blue eyes as darkness encroaches upon his vision, wishing they were avada kedavra green instead. That thought brings only more floral hell raining down upon him and he loses consciousness, the lack of air finally catching up to his body. 

When he awakens, all he can remember is the pile of white lilies in his lap and the longing for green eyes. He blinks open his eyes to find himself in his bed at Malfoy Manor with healers buzzing around him quickly, checking his vitals. 

“Good evening, Tom,” comes the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy, who is currently sitting at the foot of his bed with concerned eyes, “How are you feeling?” Typically, Tom would be much more diplomatic and polite, but he can’t find those skills at the moment. He’s utterly exhausted and his chest aches in a way he usually only feels around a certain Gryffindor with a habit of getting up to no good. As a future Dark Lord, these feelings only enrage them as he has little use for schoolboy crushes in his upcoming years. 

“Like I was hit by a bus,” he answers and Lucius picks up on the muggle reference, thank goodness. Tom isn’t sure he could explain right now if he tried. The man nods and a sorrowful look comes over his face as he gazes at his son’s best friend. Lucius knows Tom and his ambitions, but he foolishly believes Tom cares for Draco as more than a tool and stepping-stool into society. Tom lets him believe as he pleases as it only furthers his goals and allows him to stay out of the orphanage in the summers.

“Tom… Have you ever heard of Hanahaki disease?” Lucius asks and Tom-Tom doesn’t know. The tightening of his lips must be answer enough for the platinum haired man who somehow becomes even paler as he fidgets on the bed as if he’s deeply unsettled. 

“It’s when due to… Due to unrequited feelings towards another person, a man o-or woman begins to grow flowers in their lungs. They grow until they completely fill your lungs and-“ Lucius keeps speaking, but Tom can’t hear anymore. He turns his gaze towards the wall in front of him and his mind is racing. Unrequited feelings? 

Tom isn’t in love with anybody but his fucking self and the insinuation that he might have _feelings_ other than abhorrence for his classmates is just plain wrong. Inaccurate. False. Lucius pats him on the knee at some point, claiming to understand Tom needs space to think about everything that’s been said. He knows Lucius claims there is a cure, that if Tom removes the flowers surgically then he will move forward, he just will never be able to love again. 

Tom has never loved anyway, so why is he hesitating? The thought of green eyes filled with tears is hastily shoved to the back of his mind. The idea of the surgery isn’t pleasant and now that he has a name he can research other cures. Perhaps if he goes through with his horcrux plan for immortality then he will cure himself of this persistent, annoying disease. He will research at Hogwarts and find another way.

With a sudden clock ticking on his life, immortality has never weighed so heavily on his mind. He wants it and he’s going to have it. 

No matter what it takes.

The fifth time he hacks up lilies is after his return to Hogwarts following the winter break when he lays his gaze upon one Harry Potter, returned from the holiday with flush cheeks and a happy grin. Harry’s green eyes practically dance in the light of the Great Hall from where he sits at the Gryffindor table and Tom wants to murder somebody. He wants to slide the blade of a knife through somebody’s rib cage like it’s nothing but butter and watch the light fade from their eyes with the knowledge that it was Tom Riddle with the power to decide their fate. 

That is what Harry Potter makes him feel. He makes Tom feel like murder and world domination and incessant hunger. Tom wants to carve open his chest and take a bite out of his living, beating human heart. He wants to lay claim to cities and oceans until his empire is too large to crumble out from underneath him. Harry Potter makes him feel both powerful and weak and Tom finds himself wondering… _Is this what love feels like?_

Is Harry Potter the one causing flowers to grow in Tom’s lungs where they shouldn’t be? Tom doesn’t know. He is a product of a love potion and the fact that he can love was shocking to hear in the first, but to love _Harry Potter?_ Gryffindor’s golden boy? The thought makes him feel ill. 

That’s when flowers come creeping up his lungs, demanding an appearance at dinner. Tom stands ramrod straight and stiffly, but quickly flees, hoping that maybe Draco will bring him some dinner. If he doesn’t, Tom can go to the kitchens later, but it would be… nice. He feels eyes following his departure and quite frankly, usually he would hex the offending staring bastard, but not today. Today, Tom Riddle is fleeing from more than just embarrassment and flowers in his lungs. He doesn’t want to love, he especially doesn’t want to love an annoyingly brave and stupid Gryffindor named Harry Potter. He won’t, he refuses! 

“Tom?” Draco stops him, a hand catching Tom’s elbow. Flowers are bursting from Tom’s lips and he vomits them into Draco’s waiting hands. There’s more blood this time and Tom feels desperation and fear settle heavy in his chest. Draco, to his credit, reigns in his disgust and casts a cleaning charm before wrapping his arms hesitantly around Tom’s shaking shoulders while cooing, “It’s okay, Tom… It’ll be okay.” 

It’s enough to startle Tom out of his panic attack. He snarls, shoving Draco off of him. “Do you think I need pity or sympathy, Malfoy? I am your Lord. I don’t need your fucking comfort.” His voice raises with every word out of his mouth before he shoves Draco away and continues on his way. Tom stalks down a corridor, tears slipping unacceptably from his eyes. He despises the sheer amount of emotions rising in him and understands none of them. He’s left a pile of white blood-stained lilies behind him on the floor, but he doesn’t care. 

He feels a liquid dribble down his chin and wipes the blood away. It seems perhaps this case of hanahaki disease is fast acting and he knows he must move swiftly, but to remove a heart? That he didn’t know he had in the first place? He is a man of knowledge and he feels like perhaps he’d like to explore this new part of himself before he tore it apart. With a feeling he thinks must be sorrow he returns to his rooms to pen a letter to Lucius. It seems perhaps he needs an appointment at St. Mungo’s after all.

The first time Harry realizes he’s in love with Tom Riddle is in third year when the boy tells Malfoy to stick it. They’ve spoken just a few times, but Tom has always had this air about him. The boy is worthy of his arrogance; the smartest wizard in their year and as handsome as a model. When it comes to intelligence, even Hermione can’t match up to Riddle and so, Harry understands why Riddle can seem stuck up. He wishes the boy were more approachable, but he likes to think he likes Tom just the way he is. 

Now if only Tom would like Harry too. 

When Tom punches Malfoy in the nose and then hexes the boy so that he’s throwing up slugs for three weeks, Harry realizes that his admiration is maybe a bit more than just that. He smiles when he sees Tom in the halls and the library, always much to afraid to approach the other boy. 

One day, the two thirteen year olds collide in the hallway and Riddle manages to remain standing while Harry goes sprawling to the ground. There’s a sneer on the lips of that handsome face as Riddle turns his nose up at Harry.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Riddle snarls, tone ice cold. Hermione, Harry’s most loyal best friend steps in on his defense as it seems all Harry can do is stare up at Tom with wide eyes. 

“Hey, Riddle, you had your nose in a book! Maybe you should watch where you’re going instead,” she hisses and it isn’t even a good comeback, but Tom looks utterly shocked that she would even say anything at all. The shock quickly disappears from his face as Tom schools his features back into a Slytherin sneer. 

“Maybe you should mind your own business, you dirty little mudblood,” he declares and the hallway falls silent. Harry feels himself standing and slamming his fist into Tom’s nose before he can even think about it. Tom’s pristine posture crumbles as the boy doubles over. Brown eyes glare up at green as he clutches his nose in one hand. 

“Next time I won’t be so nice as to walk away, Riddle,” Harry threatens, taking a shaking Hermione into his arms and stalking away from the boy with the nosebleed. Yes, it was in third year that Harry realized he was in love with Tom Riddle. It was also in third year that Tom discovered he wasn’t a muggleborn like everyone thought and found a place within the Slytherin House at Draco Malfoy’s side. 

And so while Harry knew he was in love, he also knew Tom was not to be liked or trusted. That was enough to ward him away.

The second time it truly hit Harry that he was in love with Tom Riddle was in fourth year after both he and Tom were chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. Tom was truly chosen, but Harry was somehow thrown into the mix. Another scheme of Grindelwald’s more than likely to make Harry pay for surviving the killing curse as an infant. Harry sweats as he joins the other champions and offers the Great Hall a nervous smile. Everyone knows something has gone wrong. Tom was the only fourteen year old that had gotten special permission from the Minister to participate. Harry’s name should never have been put in to the Goblet of Fire in the first place. 

“Mr. Potter!” People are screeching and Tom leans into him a bit, both of their hands behind their backs. Tom’s fingers brush against his own in a rare display of friendship and kindness. Harry does his best to keep the shock off of his face at the gesture, but he gives Tom a friendly small smile in return. The boy glares down at Harry, but his fingers remain. 

And when Tom accidentally gets dragged into the graveyard where Grindelwald is resurrected with Harry, they fight side by side until they make their way back to where they dropped the Triwizard cup. The golden boy and the future dark lord arrive back at Hogwarts together and alive, both declared champions. As they cling to each other, Harry realizes for the third time that Tom Riddle may strangely be the one for him. They harmonize so well together in almost all things.

This is proved in fifth year when Professor Slughorn pairs them together to give Harry a fighting chance at becoming an auror and Harry realizes for the fourth time that Tom Riddle could be his soulmate. He’s got it so bad even though Riddle is a grade A asshole. Brown eyes meet green and they fall into sync just like they always do. Headmaster Dumbledore commented on what a great team they were after they fought out of the graveyard and survived together. Both of them blushed when he said it and Tom’s cheeks are tinted pink as they work, maybe hinting that he too can’t help but remember the man’s comment. Their potion is flawless. 

Just like Harry thinks they could be together.

So when Tom Riddle goes nearly running from the Great Hall, Harry rockets to his feet as well. Hermione and Ron look at him questioningly and all Harry does is smile and shrug before taking off after him. 

He can feel both Ron and Hermione staring after him along with several of the Slytherins who had already arrived. After the Triwizard Tournament, rumors spread that he and Tom were involved. Harry dismissed them, while secretly wishing they were true. Tom brutally enforced the warning to his followers that he was not to be teased about the subject. 

Harry watches as Tom shoves Malfoy who looks hurt before he spots Harry watching. 

“What are you looking at, Potter?” He questions snottily before pushing past him and heading towards dinner. Harry once again takes off after Tom, ignoring Draco Malfoy’s obviously hurt feelings. He knows chasing Tom might be a terrible idea, but he has to try and comfort the other boy. In all their years of schooling, he’s never seen Tom quite this upset. 

Which he was. Tom's posture had been shaky instead of his usual confident stature. His eyes had been filling with tears and he was moving awfully quickly, drawing attention to himself which Tom would never have done unless he was upset enough to have to leave immediately. 

Tom enters the Slytherin dorms and Harry hears the password slip from those gorgeous pouty lips. He follows Tom up the stairs and into the sixth year dorm. Tom sits down at his desk and pulls out some parchment. Harry approaches silently, quite good at sneaking around after years upon years of rule and curfew breaking. 

“Tom?” He asks hesitantly and then watches as everything freezes. 

_“Stupefy!”_

**Author's Note:**

> holyyy shit I'm starting another tomarry au??? I must be losing it! thank you for reading!


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